


A Dog's Purpose

by operahousehomicide



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Dogs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reincarnation AU, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 21:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operahousehomicide/pseuds/operahousehomicide
Summary: Charles died and left in his place an adoration for dogs. Aaron happens to have a pup latch onto him. He calls the dog Charlie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say I love to suffer

Aaron Burr had never been particularly fond of dogs. Pet ownership, if not founded through a mutually beneficial partnership, was a luxury he hadn't been able to afford as a child. As an adult, the notion of providing care to a simpler creature simply didn't interest him.

On the other hand completely, Charles Lee adored most animals, but above all others, dogs. Canine companions were at his heels for the vast majority of the war. He fed them scraps in the mess tent, let them sleep on his cot with him, and oftentimes snuck them into banquets and other such important continental officer related events. Aaron had learned to accept the dogs with Lee's presence. He even grew fond of the general's favorites. It was difficult not to, what with the unwavering devotion Lee showered unto the animals.

It had been a month since Charles had died.

The man caught a nasty fever visiting Aaron in Philadelphia, and had succumbed to the illness in a tavern on the way back to his Shenandoah estate. Aaron had sent him home to rest and recuperate away from the squalor of the northern city. He hadn't had the chance to say goodbye.

Charles' absence was a gaping wound torn through him. The lack of Lee in his life became abundantly apparent as time wore on. Aaron kept feeding the dogs Lee had left behind. He left an extra candle stub on his writing desk, which Charles had always lit to work across from Aaron, settling his affairs without impeding the light from reaching Burr's parchment. Aaron didn't make the second side of his bed, now that he had one in Philadelphia. He continued on almost as if he expected Charles to come breezing back through the door to his office, beaming though road-weary.

The war wasn't through, but the victor apparent.

Aaron returned to withdrawing into himself. He attended to his studies and his law practicing quietly. His life became a singularly painful cycle. Burr entertained the same day-to-day routine, spoke with the same people over and over again, and went through the motions of walking to and from work every day.

He couldn't help but notice the dog.

The practice of keeping an eye peeled for any and all canines had stemmed from finding amusement in pointing dogs on the street out to Charles, who never failed to react with absolute joy. This dog, Aaron knew Charles would have adored.

He was a hound; a dark little bolt of a thing, with killing tongue and bright, clever eyes. His tail and legs were tufted, and his coat was shiny for that of a street pup. He kept his gaze solidly on Aaron every morning, and trotted happily at his side when he walked to work. He waited in the public park across the street from the law office in order to accompany Aaron back home at night.

It only took three days before Aaron was leaving a dish of water on his front steps, along with a hunk of bread. It only took a week before Aaron was scratching the dog behind his ears and patting him before beginning his walks. It took one more day for Aaron to invite the dog into his home.

The pup exhibited the finest behavior Aaron had ever seen in a dog; perhaps even further so then Charles' Mr. Spada, who had passed just after his owner. He sat, laid down, rolled over, spoke, and shook a paw when asked to do so. His eager attitude to please made Aaron laugh fondly.

He started calling the dog Charlie.

At first, he gave the dog a comforter on which to curl in the kitchen. Then, the parlor. Then, his bedroom. Finally, they both forwent the blanket to simply sleep curled together in Aaron's bed. At night, the dog lay his chin on Aaron's thigh and watched him with sleepy eyes as he read. Aaron read aloud to him, one hand holding the book, the other upon the pup's head, scratching absentmindedly.

The absolute, crippling loneliness Aaron felt without Charles' presence in his life began slowly but surely to abate. Charlie the dog provided him company enough to coax him from bed every morning to let him out to do his business, and feed them both. Aaron was eternally grateful for the pup's presence. It seemed to have just...happened. He had never wanted a dog of his own.

And really. This dog had such similar eyes to Charles', and knew just how Aaron liked a solid weight of a head on his shoulder at night when he went to sleep. Any religious or spiritual symbolism aside, Aaron loved his Charleses.

 


End file.
